


Taking a Fall

by xpiester333x



Category: One Piece
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-23 00:33:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2527388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xpiester333x/pseuds/xpiester333x
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nami is a con artist of considerable skill. She has to be, it's the only way to keep her family from succumbing to their debt. One day she's made an offer; if she can get the princess to abandon the throne, Nami's debt will be repaid. Nami doesn't think twice about accepting, but how will she feel when she meets the princess?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea for this fic almost a year ago and it's been lingering around in my head, begging to be written ever since. I kept putting it off for one reason or another, but I've decided it's time I start giving it a go. Hopefully it will be enjoyable for you!

Nami straightened the skirt of the nursing outfit she was wearing while she waited for the head nurse at the desk to turn around so she could sneak by. Nami wasn’t in the mood for a confrontation right now, she just wanted to get in, get her work done, and go home – hopefully with a fat paycheck in hand. If she could do that, she could call it a good day, but if the head nurse stopped her, it would really ruin her morning.

Her patience paid off when the head nurse _finally_ turned away from the desk and popped her head into a filing cabinet. Nami didn’t waste a second in dashing across the lobby, raising a couple of eyebrows as she went but paying them no heed. The hallway ahead led to patient rooms and specific wards for the sick and injured, and all she had to do was reach it before the woman in charge turned back around and caught her.

Nami didn’t look back until she was safely down the hallway, out of view from the open lobby. Once she was sure she was in the clear she paused to straighten her skirt again, pulling it down where it had ridden up slightly. The light pink uniform only came midway down her thighs, much shorter than was probably acceptable by this staff, but it served it’s purpose well. Sighing a final breath, she clutched her clipboard closer to her and made her way down the hallway in quick, purposeful strides.

“Good morning, Mr. Michaels,” she greeted warmly, as she entered her patient’s room. “How are you today?”

“Better now that you’re here,” the older man responded from the bed. Nami smiled at him for his flattering remark and moved towards the window to open the curtains.

She could feel his eyes on every inch of her while she moved, and had to suppress the feeling of revulsion his attention gave her. Setting the clipboard aside, she was painfully aware of how her dress rode up when she reached to pull back the dark blue curtains. Bright, early morning sunrise streamed in through the clear window and momentarily blinded the man lying in the bed. She smirked, but hid it quickly beneath an expression of concern.

“I’m sorry!” She expressed her apology. “Should I keep these closed?”

She watched as the old man blinked a couple of times, his eyes adjusting to the brightness of sun. Those watery old eyes settled on her, taking in her figure as she stood in the light.

“No, no,” he smiled. “A lovely creature such as yourself should be shown in the best lighting.”

“Oh you flatterer you,” she giggled playfully.

“I truly mean it, my dear.” Despite his lecherous gaze, his smile was genuine. “You’ve brought such joy to me during my stay here. You, like the sun, have lit up the remainder of my life.”

“Don’t talk like that,” she chastised gently. “Your condition is stable; you have plenty of time left.”

Mr. Michaels snorted. “As much time as a dying man has left, you mean.”

She pursed her lips, unwilling to answer. It was true Mr. Michaels wasn’t healthy, and though his condition was currently stable and well monitored, he wouldn’t be that way forever.

Fortunately, the old man didn’t seem to be looking for a response, and he continued. “You’ve tended to me and spent more time with me than even my own family, and I have something to show to you.”

From under his bed sheets, he withdrew a folded stack of papers. With frail, clumsy hands that were weakened with age and disease, he unfolded the papers, showing her the contents of the pages. Nami looked them over, knowing from the very first page what she was looking at.

“Mr. Michaels,” she gasped in awe, looking at him in shock. “You can’t…”

“I can and I did. Ms. Nami Mikan is to be the soul inheritor of my wealth and estate.” He smiled broadly.

“B-but your family!” She exclaimed in protest. “Surely you would rather-“

“Those people are after my money and care nothing about me or my well-being.” The old man spoke as if the words left a sickening taste in his mouth. “You, on the other hand, have shown me nothing but kindness and care since the moment I met you.” He collected her hand in his. “There is no one more worthy of my fortune than you, my dear.”

“I’m flattered,” Nami replied, embarrassed.

The old man chuckled and released her hand. She stood straight again, turning to glance at the clock on the wall. She had five minutes.

“I should go get the doctor and make my rounds, I’ll come see you again later, Mr. Michaels.” She smiled to the old man, gathering up her clipboard and heading for the door.

“Wait!” Mr. Michaels called after her. “Take these.” He waved the folded papers in her direction. “It’s just a copy of the original will, but I want you to have it in case my family tries to give you any troubles.”

She turned back, snagging the papers from his hand and pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. “Thank you, Mr. Michaels.”

A glowing smile remained on his face as she left.

* * *

 

The streets in this part of the city were dangerous for anyone to travel down alone and unawares, and Nami was happy she had the forethought to change her clothes before heading home. To outsiders, these were the slums; the dark side of the city where the streets were rife with crime and the people were low lives and thieves. It was true this side of the city was dangerous, and that there were plenty of illegal activities taking place at every turn, but it wasn’t like the people here asked for this. Not everyone was born with a silver spoon in their mouth.

Nami walked quickly past the shady alleys, ignoring the hungry look their inhabitants were giving her. She wasn’t afraid of them, the three piece baton she kept strapped to her leg was a more than effective weapon against scum like that, but it was best not to invite trouble for herself either, especially not when she was having such a good day.

She climbed two sets of rickety steps that creaked fitfully under her weight. One day she expected they would cave from beneath her, but fortunately today was not that day. She reached her destination and slid her key into the lock, twisting it before pushing inside through the peeling door.

Nojiko looked up from her afternoon coffee. “Well someone had a good day,” she commented upon seeing Nami’s face.

“Better than good.” Nami threw the folded papers onto the table in front of her sister. “I made us rich!”

“Oh?” Nojiko flipped quickly through the paperwork in front of her. “Mr. Michaels finally gave in, huh?”

“The entirety of his wealth and estate!” Nami squealed.

“Really?” Nojiko’s eyes widened. “This is amazing Nami! Does that mean you’re done with this job?”

Nami paused midway through folding her nurse’s costume. “Yeah but… I think I’ll go back a few more times, at least.”

“Why?” Nojiko asked, crinkling her nose. “You always complain about what a pervert he is.”

“Well, he is a pervert.” Nami nodded, setting the clothing aside and picking up Mr. Michaels’ will once more. “But I feel sorry for him. He’s really lonely. His own family won’t visit him. He just sits in his room, waiting to die.”

“That happens to a lot of people, Nami,” Nojiko pointed out, her voice soft and sympathetic.

“Yeah,” Nami sighed, sadly. “But it’s the least I can do for him.”

There was a pause of silence between them. Nami knew Nojiko didn’t always approve of her job or the methods she employed to do that job, but even Nojiko couldn’t argue with the results. Nami flipped open the will in her hands to the estimation of the estate and changed the subject.

“His home alone is worth a few million,” she said, a broad smile on her face. “How long do you think that will keep Arlong off our backs for? We might even be able to pay him off for good!”

Nojiko winced. “Ah, about that.”

She pulled a letter out of her pocket. It had obviously been folded and unfolded many times; the paper was tearing in places and weak along the creases. It looked like it was several weeks old, and well-read during that time. Nami took it from her, unfolding it carefully to keep from ripping it in two as she did so.

She could see why her sister had chosen not to show her the letter sooner from the moment she opened it.

“He’s raising the interest again?!” Nami shouted, slamming the letter against the table. “That bastard,” she spat through gritted teeth.

“I’m sorry, Nami,” Nojiko sighed. She leaned onto the table, resting her chin in her hand. “I guess the old man’s money isn’t going to get us too far after all.”

Nami looked in dismay from the letter in her hands to the copy of the will Mr. Michaels had handed her just that morning. She had thought there would be enough to finally pay off their debt, but it seemed not. How many more jobs would it take? How many people would she have to con, steal from, and lie to before she and Nojiko would finally have some freedom? She could feel anger building up in her gut, but its effects were tampered out by the sensation of hopelessness that drained the feelings from her limbs and made her legs give out. She landed heavily on the kitchen chair, causing the old wood groan in complaint.

“Nami…” Nojiko spoke softly, rattling Nami from her thoughts. Her sister was looking at her with a mixture of pity and concern. Nami was quick to fix a smile back onto her face.

“Well, that just means I’ll have more work to do.” Nami shrugged. “But it doesn’t mean we can’t have a big feast on that day! What do you think? What about roast duck? It’s your favorite right? And we can buy as many oranges as we want! Ooh! What about an orange sauce? That would be so fancy. What do you say?”

Nojiko sighed. “Roast duck is _your_ favorite.” She spared Nami a look that suggested she didn’t buy the act for one moment before shrugging. “But alright. When that old man kicks the bucket, we’ll celebrate with roast duck.”

Nami grimaced. “Don’t word it that way.”

“Sorry.” Nojiko pushed herself away from the table, moving to the sink to rinse out her mug. She paused before turning the water on. “Listen, Nami.” She didn’t turn around, and instead fixed her gaze on the mug in her hand. “Maybe I should get a different job.”

“Why would you do that?” Nami asked. “I thought you loved working at the nursery. You said working with the plants reminded you of mom.”

“It does,” Nojiko agreed, “but it doesn’t pay much either.”

“It pays enough to cover the rent and buy us food,” Nami said. She knew what her sister was getting at, but she refused to go in that direction.

“But it doesn’t help with the debt at all.” Nojiko turned away from the sink, looking her sister in the eye. “If I did what you do instead then maybe…”

“No way.” Nami pushed herself up from the table. “How would we pay rent? It’s not like I have the most regular income. Your job keeps a roof over our heads and mine pays down what we owe, and that’s always been the deal.” Her tone was firm and matter of fact.

With that said, she spun around and headed for the door. She needed to evacuate the room before the argument got any more intense. She and Nojiko were unpopular enough with the neighbors as is.

“I’m gonna go for a walk!” She called back as she headed through the door.

“Nami, wait!” She heard Nojiko call out behind her, but Nami pretended she was already out of earshot and took off down the rickety steps with more speed than was advisable.

* * *

 

Nami and Nojiko were not really sisters. They were just two girls who happened to have been abandoned in the same neighborhood around the same time. Nami had barely been able to walk at the time, she was so young, and so she couldn’t remember her previous family at all. When she asked Nojiko, her sister shrugged and admitted she only kind of remembered her parents. Nami assumed their families had been like any other family around these parts; too poor to even so much as feed themselves, let alone raise a child. The orphanages were overcrowded and provided poor living conditions, and in the end, children left to fend for themselves on the street might be better off.

Nojiko had found Nami, and though she couldn’t have been more than four or five at the time, she let Nami follow her around and helped to take care of her. Nami, in a big way, owed Nojiko her life. Without her sister’s help, Nami probably would have died on the streets within a week. Nojiko made sure Nami had some food, even if there wasn’t much to be had, and that she and Nami would have shelter from the worst of the elements.

Living on the streets was not kind, however, particularly not to children. Nami was glad she was so young at the time. The sensation of starving and the dying need for water haunted her enough as is, though her memories from that time in her life were dulled. Sometimes Nojiko still got a haunted look in her eye and always made sure to provide beggar kids with some kind of nourishment before sending them on their way. Nami supposed it was Nojiko’s instinct. She hadn’t let Nami starve, and she wouldn’t let other kids starve either.

Then one day, they met Bellemere. Bellemere had been a police officer at the time, which never made sense to Nami since the Bellemere that Nami had known had always been fairly rebellious and independent. She couldn’t imagine Bellemere working for the police force and taking orders, but Nami’s life was proof that she had. Bellemere often told them exciting stories from her time with the police, and apparently she had been well respected for her bravery. Bellemere wasn’t afraid to gamble her life and jump into the thickest situations. The younger officers revered her as a kind of a hero, but her superiors were usually angry with her. Nami wondered if Bellemere hadn’t joined the police force just because she was bored.

Bellemere had been answering a call from a local restaurant owner complaining about the homeless raiding his garbage. It was what Bellemere had referred to as a “routine call,” which meant she found it boring but her superiors made her take it. She had pulled up to the restaurant, expecting to find an old man seeking out a meal. She’d give him a slap on the wrist and send him on his way. Without a doubt he’d be back in a few days looking for food again. It was a pointless exercise, but she wasn’t about to shoot a man for trying to fill his stomach and if she hauled every homeless person off to jail she’d fill all the cells in a day.

She was surprised when she rounded the corner to the alley where the restaurant kept their dumpster and found two small children looting through the trash. She watched them for a moment, hidden from their view. She watched them work together to climb into the dumpster, and she watched Nojiko give Nami the best left overs, keeping the less savory ones for herself. She watched Nami bite into an old scrap of dried meat and smile as if it were the most gourmet and delicious food in the world.

According to Bellemere, her heart broke and rebuilt itself entirely that day. By evening she found herself with two little girls, unofficially adopted as her own, and by the next afternoon she had quit her job at the police station and taken her new family out of the city entirely, moving them to the outskirts of a small village. It took a couple of years of odd jobs and hard work, but Bellemere steadily built herself a new life with her family. She turned the land around their small house into an orange grove, and by the time Nami was seven, Bellemere made a humble living off their fruit. Oranges had been the best idea, Bellemere had told them, because even if they had no money, they would never starve. For Nami and Nojiko, that sounded perfect.

Nami smiled fondly at the memory of her mother. Though none of them were truly related by blood, Nami had never known any other family. She didn’t want to. All of her best memories were of the three of them: Nami, her mother, and her sister, living together on a small orange grove.

Nami’s memories turned dark as she approached a large warehouse. She stood in the shadow of the building, glaring up at its broken windows and damaged bricks.

Though the memories of those days with her family with Nami’s happiest, those years were short lived. Though the oranges Bellemere harvested every year provided them with food and a small income, it was never enough. Nami and Nojiko didn’t mind, they were used to having much less, and Bellemere always did the best she could to provide for her daughters, but that was all she could do.

When a man dressed in fancy clothing came to the door the first time, Bellemere ordered Nami and Nojiko away. Neither of them were very obedient, however, and both of them had hung around just out of view to listen to what the fancy man had to say.

At the time, Nami was too young to understand. Nojiko understood it better, but not by much. Nami supposed the full effect of what they had heard that day wouldn’t hit either of them until many years later when they had a better understanding of how the world worked.

The man was a lawyer. He’d been sent to investigate the property and Bellemere’s business. No taxes had ever been paid for either, he had discovered, and on top of that, Bellemere had adopted two girls unofficially. It was an act that, while generous, could not be held legally.

The lawyer told Bellemere he would have to take Nami and Nojiko from her. She could adopt them back later, of course, when she had the adoption fee ready, but only after the years of backed taxes had been paid off. The sum was impossible, especially on Bellemere’s small budget.

Nami had learned these details much later. As a child, she only knew something was wrong because Bellemere’s temper was much shorter and she spent a lot of time sitting at their kitchen table with her face buried in her hands. Nami was old enough to understand that something was wrong, but not to understand what was happening.

A few days later, Bellemere had come home from a trip into the city in a much better mood. She promised Nami and Nojiko that everything would be alright, and cooked them a large meal that would normally have been out of their price range, but Bellemere promised they could afford it. Things were okay again; what sadness had tainted the air that week cleared away in a single day, and everything went back to the way it was before the lawyer had come to their house. Bellemere’s mood picked up, and they worked in the orange grove as if everything were normal again.

They had one more good year. One more year together, happy, as a family. Their oranges were doing well that year, and Bellemere was making plans for the harvest. Things were so normal; Nami and Nojiko could never have guessed what would happen. There were no signs to warn them, no hints given. Bellemere kissed them both goodnight, and the next morning she was gone.

* * *

 

Nami passed by the obvious docking doors, making instead for the small service entrance on the side of the building.

“Nami! Hey!” A boisterous, loud voice greeted her. “Long time no see.”

“Shut it, Hachi,” she snapped. “Where’s Arlong?”

“Hey, don’t be like that!” Hachi frowned. “We haven’t seen each other in forever.”

“We’re not friends, Hachi,” she rounded on him. “Now, tell me where Arlong is or I’ll find him myself.”

Hachi deflated a little. She would almost have felt bad for him, had her mood not been so sour. Hachi, as far as gang members went, was unusually friendly and a generally nice guy. Had she known him in any other circumstances, she might have liked him, but as is, she couldn’t afford to get to close.

“Arlong is in there.” Hachi pointed his thumb towards a door leading into the building. “He’s got a meeting in about half an hour, so whatever you’re here for, make it quick.”

Nami clicked her tongue. She didn’t give a damn about Arlong’s other meetings. If she said that to Hachi though, he might not let her in, so she bit her tongue and stomped through the door Hachi had pointed to. Her fingers danced reassuringly on her three-piece baton as she went. Insurance in case something happened.

“Is that Nami?” A sickening, familiar voice greeted her as she entered the main body of the warehouse. Arlong’s men were scattered throughout, and almost all heads turned in her direction as the door fell shut behind her.

Arlong himself sat at the front of the building on a makeshift stage. His chair was large and ornate, and she bet he imagined that it was some kind of throne. He seemed to believe himself to be some kind of super human, better than the others, but she supposed when you became someone of his level of power, you could get away with that.

“What brings the finest con-artist in the city here?” He asked her as she approached. “Have you reconsidered my offer about joining me?”

“What the hell is this?” She pulled the envelope from her pocket, waving it in his direction.

“I see you finally got my letter. I sent that out three weeks ago you know.”

“I didn’t ask you when you sent it,” she spat. She threw the letter to the ground and smashed it under one sandaled foot. “I asked you what the hell it is!”

“I thought the meaning was pretty clear.” Alrong shrugged. “I raised the interest on your loan again. Of course, I had to raise it on your back payments too, it’s only fair.”

Nami gritted her teeth. “I was going to pay you off in the next couple months,” she ground out.

“Were you?” Arlong asked. “That’s a shame.”

* * *

 

Nami and Nojiko learned what had happened to Bellemere a week later.

With little to no options left to her, Bellemere used an old connection she knew from her days on the police force. He wasn’t a good guy. In fact, she’d been part of a division that was set on bringing him down before the division changed hands and her new boss called off the chase. Arlong was his name, and he ran most of the city from the underground. Illegal operations were his expertise. No bank or loan service would lend money to her, Bellemere had exhausted all her legal options. In danger of losing her home and her children, she turned to her last resort.

Arlong was happy to loan Bellemere the money. He gave her more than enough to cover her past taxes and legally adopt her children. She would have to pay him back of course, but he promised her he’d be flexible and allow her to pay in payments. Nami learned all of this because Arlong told her, both her and Nojiko, when he paid them a visit a week after Bellemere disappeared. He also explained that her debt would fall on to them, and unless they truly wanted to find out what happened to their mother, they’d find a way to pay him back.

Nami never asked for details about what happened to Bellemere. She had nightmares about the possibilities sometimes, but she was better off not knowing.

They were still only children when Bellemere had disappeared, but both Nami and Nojiko set to work, trying to keep their orchard alive and in condition to continue their business. They had learned enough from Bellemere to know how to take care of their trees, but the weather turned against them after a few years, and most of their grove was lost to drought.

With no way to keep their home and pay Arlong, they gave up Bellemere’s orchard and their home and moved back to the city, into the grungy little apartment they still shared. They sought jobs elsewhere, wherever they could find them. It was around this time that Nami learned she had a true skill for tricking people out of their money, and she was quick to put that skill to good use.

This wasn’t the first time they had gotten close to paying off Bellemere’s debt, only to have Arlong raise the rates. Nami knew he was doing it on purpose, to keep both her and Nojiko in debt until they were dead, and she hated him for it.

* * *

 

“You can’t do that!” Nami shouted at him, her hate for him fueling her words.

“Of course I can.”

“It’s not fair! We’ve already paid you three times what my mother borrowed!” She knew it was a hopeless argument, but she couldn’t stop herself.

“That’s how interest works.” Arlong grinned. His smile was wicked and sadistic. “Perhaps you’d like another business lesson?”

Nami blanched. “No,” she said.

“Then I don’t think we have anything more to discuss,” Arlong said. “You should be on your way now.”

Nami felt her shoulders sag. Defeat weighed in her limbs and threatened to suffocate her lungs. She didn’t move, not because she didn’t want to, but because she couldn’t bring herself to.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Arlong said after a long pause. “If you join me, I’ll forget your debt. I could use a girl of your skills on my side. Work for me and your mother’s debt will be forgiven entirely. You and your sister will be free.”

Nami knew Arlong’s definition of “free” was skewed. Chances were she’d become something of a slave to him, doing his every bidding without the luxury of free will. Nojiko might be free though, and that thought was tempting. Even if it cost her own freedom, Nojiko would be safe.

But Nami couldn’t stomach the idea. It was selfish, prideful, and probably stupid, but the idea of working for Arlong made her insides revolt. She couldn’t do it.

“Not a chance,” she spat, turning on heel and heading back the way she came. “I’ll get you your damn money.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” were his parting words to her as she left the building.


	2. Chapter 2

Nami struggled to pour herself a glass of water; her hands were shaking so badly. She tried to steady them, tried to carry on just like she always did, but they wouldn’t even hold still long enough for her to fill her glass properly. Water sloshed over the sides, dripping over her fingers. When the cup was halfway full she decided to call that good enough.

She barely got one sip of it before the wet glass slipped from her trembling fingers and landed with a horrific crash onto the cracked linoleum floor.

“God dammit!” Nami swore, kneeling down to pick up the shards of ceramic that had sprayed every which way with the impact. She picked each one up gingerly, but her hands were not making anything easy on her right now, and one of the shards sank into the palm of her hand. “Fuck!”

“Sweep it up instead, idiot,” Nojiko chastised lightly. She was leaning against the doorway in her pajamas. Nami had probably woken her up with all the noise she was making.

“Sorry,” Nami apologized quickly. “I’ll clean this, go back to bed.”

“Hard to sleep when I’ve been wondering where my sister got off to,” Nojiko sighed, moving to the cabinet and pulling out their broom.

Nami hadn’t had the heart to return straight home after her confrontation with Arlong. She didn’t have the heart to tell Nojiko where she had gone, or about the deal Arlong had tried to cut her. Nami didn’t know how to confess to Nojiko that she was going to selfishly keep her sister in debt with her. She knew she wouldn’t be able to face Nojiko without breaking down. She felt weak, and hopeless; the last thing she wanted to do was bring that feeling home with her.

Nami had taken a walk instead. Of course, as the walk had been several hours long, it was more like a tour of the city. She had stopped at all the shadiest parts, trying to make something out of her failure for the day.

“I picked some pockets.” Nami gestured to the pile of crumpled bills and assorted collection of wallets that was on their table. “And placed some bets. We’re another five hundred richer now.”

Nojiko spared the table a glance and sighed. “Did you go see Arlong?”

Nami froze. It was only for an instant, she quickly tried to recover, but she had already caught Nojiko’s attention.

“I thought so,” Nojiko sighed again. “Nami, don’t do stupid things like that.”

“He’s not going to hurt me,” Nami spat. “You and I make him too much money.”

“A guy like Arlong doesn’t need a good reason, Nami,” Nojiko lectured. “If you piss him off enough, one day he really is going to kill you.”

“Let him,” Nami grumbled. “It would be a relief.”

A harsh slap across her face forced her to eat those words. She brought a hand to her stinging cheek and stared at her sister with a stunned expression.

“What kind of attitude is that?!” Nojiko snapped. “You’re alive, aren’t you? Things aren’t going to get better for you when you’re dead, Nami. All you’ll be then is dead.”

“I’m sorry,” Nami muttered, averting her eyes.

There was a tense silence between them, punctuated only by the idle swishing of the broom in Nojiko’s hands. Finally, Nojiko set the broom aside and reached for Nami’s bleeding hand.

“Let’s get this cleaned up,” Nojiko said.

Nami allowed her sister to lead her to the sink, wash the wound on her hand, and bandage it all without protest. She was on autopilot as her sister led her into their bedroom and changed her clothes for her. It was like they were little kids again, when Nami was too young to get dressed on her own and Nojiko would help her.

“Lay down,” Nojiko instructed, throwing back the blankets on her bed.

Nami obeyed, climbing into her sister’s bed. She waited for Nojiko to climb in as well and throw the blankets over the both of them before she broke her silence.

“I’m sorry.” She curled into Nojiko, letting her big sister hold her as she cried. “I’m sorry,” she repeated again.

“I know,” Nojiko murmured. “It’s alright.”

Nami fell asleep that way, sheltered in her sister’s arms, crying bitter tears of frustration, guilt, and regret.

* * *

 

“Do I look okay?” Nami asked, adjusting the hem of her skirt.

“You look…” Nojiko paused. “Like you’re in mourning.”

“Good.” Nami flashed her sister a quick smile.

It was almost a month since Nami had confronted Arlong, and she’d gotten her first real piece of good news. Well, if you could all it good news. Mr. Michaels had been found dead in his hospital room that morning, having passed peacefully in his sleep. Nami was being summoned by Mr. Michaels’ lawyer to discuss the terms of his will.

Nami did feel sad for Mr. Michaels. She’d gone to visit him a few more times before he passed (though she’d dropped the nursing act and told him she’d been fired from the hospital). She couldn’t say she particularly liked him, she didn’t allow herself to get that attached to the people she was taking money from, but she didn’t dislike him either. He was nice enough for someone of his status, and she did pity him. His family only visited once every couple of months, just often enough to hopefully secure themselves a place in his will. Nami would look forward to laughing at them today.

“What exactly does his lawyer think you are to him?” Nojiko asked curiously.

“I assume everyone will think I was his young lover.” Nami shrugged before turning to the mirror to force a small gold earring into her ear.

Nojiko made a face. “That doesn’t gross you out at all?”

“Well _I_ know I wasn’t sleeping with him,” Nami said.

“Still…” Nojiko frowned.

“Nojiko, I’m about to inherit millions, I don’t care what they think about me,” Nami said.

The logic in her argument was irrefutable, and Nojiko didn’t say anything more.

“There,” Nami said, turning away from the mirror. “Do I still look like I’m in mourning?”

“Perfect.” Nojiko gave her a thumbs up.

“I’m on my way then,” Nami said, grabbing up her purse as she made for the door. “Take care of the house while I’m gone.”

“Have a good time making his family angry!” Nojiko called out after her.

* * *

 

Nami sat primly in the cushioned chair, trying to maintain her look of sadness and loss. It wasn’t as hard as it might sound, especially with Mr. Michaels’ family glaring at her from the other side of the waiting room. They had apparently already spoken with Mr. Michaels’ lawyer, and received their bad news. Nami only spared them a glance before dabbing her eyes with a tissue and pretending to hide her tears.

“Ms. Mikan?” a woman, whom Nami assumed was the lawyer, called.

Nami stood from her seat and followed the woman into her office. The relatives’ eyes never left her as she passed by them, and she heard a few scathing remarks thrown around. Before the lawyer could close the door behind her, Nami turned around and winked, sticking her tongue out to gloat. The last thing she saw was their appalled faces, and then the door fell shut with a soft click.

“Please, have a seat, Ms. Mikan.” The lawyer, Robin Nico was her name, gestured to a comfortable looking leather chair before moving to the opposite side of her massive desk and taking a seat herself. She shuffled a few papers around, before pulling out a file and flipping it open.

“Ms. Mikan, as you may know, Mr. Michaels named you the sole heir to his wealth and estate.”

“He mentioned it to me before he passed,” Nami nodded. She was as truthful as possible around lawyers. They were even better liars than she was, and they could tell when they weren’t getting the truth out of someone else. It was better to be honest with them and save the lies for when they were absolutely necessary.

“I’ll have you know, I was strongly against him making the change,” Ms. Nico said. “I advised against it, but in the end I must go along with what my client desires. Still, I want you to know that I don’t trust you.”

Nami had to resist the urge to glare at the woman.

“What exactly was your relation to Mr. Michaels?” Ms. Nico asked.

“I was his nurse,” Nami said. This was the moment she saved the lying for.

“I checked with the hospital, there is no Nami Mikan registered as an employee. There never was.” Ms. Nico leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk and lacing her fingers together. “So let’s try that again, Ms. Mikan. What was your relation to my client?”

Nami paused, her mind working in overdrive. This woman had done her homework. Nami was used to her appearance answering all the questions for her. She was a beautiful young woman, after all. Who could blame a man in the last legs of his life for indulging in such a partner? No lawyer had ever bothered to look deeper into it than that, Nami counted on that. This was a first, and it was making her have to rethink her plan.

“I was his friend,” Nami said. “I visited him in the hospital regularly, spent time with him. You can think what you want of me, but I just wanted to make an old man happy.”

Ms. Nico stared at Nami over the top of her reading glasses, seeming to consider the girl’s words. Nami met her eyes with confidence. She refused to look away; it was a sure sign of guilt.

Finally, Ms. Nico looked away, her eyes drifting down to the phone on her desk as her hand moved to press a button on it.

“Send them in,” she said clearly before releasing the button and turning her gaze back onto Nami.

“Send who in?” Nami asked.

At that moment, the office door opened, and two men dressed in black entered. They each seized Nami by the arms and hauled her out of her chair.

“Hey!” she shouted, instinctively trying to free herself from their grip. “What the hell are you doing?!”

Together the men hauled her towards the door. Nami couldn’t free herself from their grip, and she was sure they were going to leave finger shaped bruises in her arms. She attempted to kick them instead, her high-heeled feet attempting to connect with the men’s shins, but to no avail. She couldn’t even reach.

“You can’t do this!” Nami shouted, twisting her head back to Ms. Nico.

The lawyer sat at her desk, looking completely unfazed by the action and noise in her office. “I think you’ll find I can, Ms. Mikan.”

“Why?!” Nami asked.

Ms. Nico smiled. “You might thank me later.” She nodded to the two men, and Nami found herself dragged away completely against her will.

* * *

 

The two men forced Nami into the back seat of a slick black car and slammed the door behind her. She quickly launched herself at the door, prying at the handle, but the door was locked and there was no mechanism to unlock it from the inside. She was trapped.

“Aren’t you supposed to read me some rights or something?” Nami asked as the two men slipped into the car. No answer. “What about a call? Don’t a get a call?”

“You can shut up,” the man in the passenger seat said. He turned and slid the partition separating the front and back seats closed, and Nami was left alone.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” she spat, but fell silent after that.

Truthfully, she was terrified. Her arms were folded stubbornly over her chest and her mouth was twisted into an annoyed frown, but she could feel the tears of panic pricking behind her eyes. She refused to cry. Maybe if she thought it would get her out of this situation she’d let the tears flow, but she doubted that would get her her way this time. Instead, she sat in stubborn silence while her mind worked in overdrive.

Her first thoughts drifted to Nojiko. What would her sister think when Nami never came home? Would someone notify her that Nami had been taken? And where was she being taken? These were not your average officers. Maybe they were part of a special unit? It didn’t matter. What really mattered was that Nami had messed up. She hadn’t been careful enough, she hadn’t thought things through.

What kind of crime did this qualify as? Fraud? Theft? Maybe both? Would they make her return the money she’d taken over the years? She snorted. Arlong had all that money, they could take it up with him. Maybe then they would arrest a real criminal. If Nami’s arrest led to Arlong’s arrest, Nami would happily sit in jail for the remainder of her life.

She settled back into the seat of the car, thankful that they hadn’t handcuffed her. At least she was spared one discomfort. She turned to stare out the windows, only to find them too tinted to see much more than vague shadows. She sighed, a deep, heavy sigh. It was just her and her thoughts then.

What would happen to Nojiko if Nami was arrested? Arlong wouldn’t cancel their debt for something like that. He hadn’t canceled it for Bellemere’s death, why would this be different? Would Nojiko be able to pay Arlong? Nami doubted it, Nojiko’s job at the nursery only paid so much, and while it was enough to cover their small apartment and buy them food, Nami doubted it would be enough to keep Arlong satisfied. Nami was worried for her sister, even more than she was for herself. She didn’t want Nojiko to have to work herself to death or to delve into anything illegal just to make ends meet. Silently, she was regretting not taking Arlong up on his offer. If she had, she might not be here right now, and Nojiko would be safe. It had been stupid and selfish on her part to refuse him.

She clicked her teeth together, turning to the window again. What little light that had been visible beyond the heavy tinting was gone, and everything beyond the glass had become one massive dark shadow. Underground, she’d guess. She’d never heard of a prison or a jail entrance being below ground, but then she’d never gotten close enough to a jail or a prison to find out for sure. She supposed it made sense, if they were underground, it made getting away more difficult for her if she tried to run.

The car slowed, turned to the right twice, and finally came to a stop. Nami waited patiently to see if they would move again, but the engine of the car died and the partition separating her and the men who had taken her slid open.

“We’re going to take you inside. Don’t try to run; we have permission to shoot,” the driver said.

Nami suppressed a shiver of fear. She didn’t doubt the truth in the man’s words. When the man from the passenger seat opened her door, she obediently slid towards him and stepped out. She didn’t move from his side, not daring to even give the impression of escape, and waited for the men to tell her where to go next. They were in some kind of underground facility. There were no other vehicles around, and the concrete was painted a bleached white and unmarked all around them, save for a single door that was painted green.

“Move it.” One of the men shoved her and she stumbled forward several steps. “To the door.”

Nami did as she was told, taking slow, even steps towards the door. When they reached it, one of the men stopped to key in some kind of code. Nami tried to see what it was, but the other man stepped in the way of her view, shooting her a look. The door slid open and the man who had blocked her view gave her another shove towards the entrance.

The inside of the building looked much different than the concrete underground section had. There were hardwood floors and dark wood paneling half way up the walls. The rest of the walls were covered with deep green wallpaper. Somewhere in the distance, Nami could hear the cadence of voices chatting together all at once. She wondered if this was the prison then, though it seemed unfair to drag her here without a trial or even so much as an explanation.

The hallway was narrow and seemed to run in a constant curve, as if they were following the edge of a circle. One of the men walked in front of Nami, and the other followed behind. Nami wasn’t sure where they thought she was going to run to, but she had to applaud them on being thorough. They walked that way for several minutes before the man leading their group stopped in front of a seemingly blank stretch of wall.

Nami watched as the man pressed his hand against the wall. It slid open at the touch of his hand, revealing a set of stairs that led almost straight upwards. The stairs were silver and solid looking. What kind of place was this? Nami didn’t have a lot of experience with prison, but having grown up in the slums of the city, she definitely knew a few people that had, and none of them had ever described it as being anything like this. This building was much too high-tech and fancy to be the prison those people had described to her.

One of the men ascended the stairs and Nami followed quickly, to avoid another shove. The stairs were steep and treacherous in her heels, but she took comfort in knowing that at least the man behind her would cushion her fall.

The stairs seemed to go up forever, and Nami’s legs were beginning to scream in protest. There seemed to be twice as many stairs as there were leading to her apartment, and then there were even more than that. Nami kept up her pace though, refusing to show weakness in front of these men.

The man in front of her came to a stop, and Nami nearly walked into him. She managed to stop herself in time, and peeked around his figure to see why he wasn’t moving. Ahead of him was a door. It was simple stained wood and stood out starkly against the silver steps and white walls of this stairwell. The man knocked on the door twice, and it swung open, revealing a sort of lounge space filled with lush velvet furniture and surrounded with dark maroon walls.

Nami followed the man in the lead inside. He led her towards and impressively large desk that made Ms. Nico’s look like a side table.

“Sit,” the man ordered, gesturing to an uncomfortable looking wooden chair in front of the desk.

The second man gave her one final shove, forcing her into the chair, before he and his buddy turned around and headed back towards the door. Nami watched them go, uncertain of what was happening, but not daring to move from her seat regardless. The two men exited the room, and shut the door behind them. Nami noted that it too blended perfectly into the wall.

Nami sat in complete silence for a few minutes. She clicked her heels together, waiting for the next step. Is this where she would meet with the police or her lawyer? Nami surveyed the office. She certainly couldn’t afford a lawyer that would cost this much. Would she be interrogated here? The room was deceptively comfortable looking, and that put Nami more on edge.

“Welcome, Ms. Mikan.”

Nami started, jerking in her seat in surprise and staring at where the voice has come from. In front of her, on the opposite side of the massive desk, was an impressively tall chair. Because Nami hadn’t so much as heard the sound of breathing in the time she had been sitting here, she assumed the chair was empty, but now it was moving, spinning towards her as the person seated in it folded the daily newspaper and set it on his desk.

She knew this man. She’d have to have been born under a rock not to. Sir Crocodile was a prominent figure in this country. He acted as the right hand of the king, handling many of the countries domestic affairs and even acting as an ambassador in foreign affairs from time to time. He was a hero to the people of Alabasta, as precious to them as their king, and perhaps even more so. He was a war hero that had lost his left hand in service to his country. It was Sir Crocodile that had taken to running pirates out of their port towns through military strength, and it was Sir Crocodile that saw to it that all the citizens of their country were fed and cared for even during the droughts.

What did the king’s right hand want with Nami?

Crocodile took a moment to light up a cigar before he fixed his eyes on her and spoke.

“I hear you’re quite the con artist, Ms. Mikan,” he said.

Nami eyed him suspiciously. “Who told you that?” she asked.

“I have my connections,” Crocodile replied. “I’ve heard of several of your big exploits through my sources. I have to say, I’m impressed someone your age is able to pull in so much money that way. It takes talent the likes of which even those trained in deceit sometimes lack.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nami said.

“No need to play dumb,” Crocodile opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled a file folder out. From the folder he extracted several pages of official looking reports. “The Stevenson’s novel fortune.” He placed one of the pages down on the desk. “The rights to the Florian estate.” Another page. “And most recently, the Michaels’ estate. Not to mention various small crimes in between. Quite the impressive track record.”

Nami stared at the pages in disbelief. Every one of them held a record of her past cons. How could that be? Maybe she hadn’t exactly been the most careful, but she would have noticed if there was someone keeping tabs on her.

“I’ve been interested in you for some time now.” Crocodile recollected the papers and placed them back in the file folder. “But you’re a very hard woman to keep track of, Ms. Mikan. I’m lucky Ms. Nico handled your most recent case, or I might never have found you.”

Nami silently cursed the lawyer. It was her fault Nami was in this mess.

“So now that you’ve found me, what happens to me?” Nami asked, trying to sound unconcerned. It was difficult to keep her voice from trembling. “Prison? A death sentence? Surely it will be a punishment suitable for someone of my skill,” she said coolly.

To her surprise, Sir Crocodile laughed. It was a deep, flat sounding laugh. “Punishment? On the contrary, I wish to offer you a job, Ms. Mikan.”

Nami’s eyebrows rose so high they disappeared into her hair. “A job?” she repeated in disbelief. “Me?”

“I have a special job I can only entrust to someone of your… occupation,” Crocodile explained. “Of course, you’d be compensated generously.”

 “I’m listening,” she said, sitting back in her chair and folding her legs one over the other. She wasn’t nearly as confident as she looked, but she was intrigued. Of course, she was most intrigued by the mention of compensation, but she was also curious as to why one of the highest-ranking officials in the country was seeking the aid of a con artist. It was a suspicious situation, and Nami was wary, but she would be stupid not to listen to the details.

“I need you to help me get rid of the princess of Alabasta,” Crocodile said, a sinister smile spreading over his face.

Nami felt her stomach turn. “I don’t do murder,” she said, her voice flat.

“I’m not asking you to.” Crocodile silenced her with a look. There was a quiet break between them while Crocodile seemed to be sizing her up. “I run an organization you might have heard of, Ms. Mikan. It goes by the name of Baroque Works.”

Nami had heard of it. Baroque Works operated as a kind of vigilante group that existed in the fringe space between law breaking and justice. She’d heard rumors of their exploits, which sometimes even included obvious crimes like assassination and impersonating government officials. Nami had always assumed they were a gang that had struck up a deal with the corrupted police in the city to be able to operate without repercussions, she had no idea they were headed by a man as important as Sir Crocodile.

Crocodile grinned. “It seems you’ve heard of us. Good, that will save me some explaining. As of right now, my organization totals well over two-thousand members. Enough members to form a small army, if you can imagine it, Ms. Mikan.”

Nami could imagine it. “And I assume that’s what you intend to use them for?” she asked.

“Indeed,” Crocodile said. “You’re smart, Ms. Mikan. Yes, I intend to use the force of my small army to help me bring this country under my power. The king is ill, as I’m sure you are aware, and the doctors are unable to cure him.”

“Of course they are,” Nami muttered.

Crocodile’s grin did not waver. “Whatever it is you are assuming, I assure you that you are probably right.”

Nami felt her stomach turn again. The king had reportedly fallen ill with food poisoning some time ago, and had simply never recovered from it. That was the report as the news had given it, anyway, although now Nami had plenty of reason to suspect the king had indeed eaten poisonous food.

“I plan to step in as ruler of this country when the king is dead,” Crocodile explained. “There is just one little thing standing in my way.”

“The princess,” Nami said.

“Yes.” Crocodile stood from his desk and walked over to one of his bookshelves. “Princess Vivi Nefetari will assume the throne immediately upon her father’s death, which would be very inconvenient for me.”

“Why don’t you just kill her too?” Nami asked, her tone a bit spiteful.

Sir Crocodile made a sound of frustration. For a moment the façade of organized perfection he exuded was broken, but only for a moment. “It would be too suspicious. First her mother dies, and her father is soon to follow. If the princess dies as well, people are sure to suspect foul play. I can’t have that; it will throw a wrench in my plans.”

He turned to face Nami again. “And that’s where you come in. I need the princess to renounce her right to the throne. If she does, her people will feel betrayed; they’ll hate her without my help. You, Ms. Mikan, have the job of making that happen.”

Nami almost laughed. “And how is someone like me supposed to convince the princess to give up her birthright? I couldn’t even get close enough to see her face!”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Crocodile said, moving back to his desk. “I would see to it you had a way to get to the princess, as for how you convince her, that’s where your special talent comes in.”

Nami bit her lip. “Why tell me this?” she asked. “Isn’t that kind of a stupid move? What’s to stop me from exposing you?”

Sir Crocodile flipped through the file folder of Nami’s conquests and pulled out a single document. A picture, actually, of Nojiko.

“Your sister, is she not?” Crocodile asked.

Nami felt her blood run cold. She didn’t respond.

Crocodile put Nojiko’s picture back into the file. “I know about your debt to Arlong. I have my men keeps tabs on him. That bastard has been a thorn in my side for some time now.” Crocodile sat once more and took a deep pull of his cigar, releasing a hazy cloud of smoke into the air. “If you can succeed in getting the princess to renounce her right to the throne, I’ll see to it that your debt to Arlong is cleared. You and your sister will be free of him forever.”

Nami could feel her lip beginning to bleed where she had been chewing on it. That was no empty promise. If there was anyone in the world who had the ability to stop Arlong, it was Sir Crocodile. Nami didn’t for a moment doubt his words, but that didn’t make the decision any easier for her. Not that she supposed she really had a choice. She didn’t want to think about what would happen to Nojiko if she refused.

“I just have to get her to give up the throne?” Nami asked.

 “Yes, that’s all,” Crocodile said.

Nami frowned, considering the offer. She could care less who ran the country. Where she lived, law held little meaning, and poverty ran rampart. As far as she was concerned, she didn’t owe any special allegiance to King Nefetari or his family. They had never done a single favor for her.

“I want it in writing,” she said. “I want a guarantee that if I succeed, you will get Arlong off my back. I also want a promise that while I’m doing this that no harm will come to my sister. In return, I’ll do what you want, and I’ll keep my mouth shut. Is that agreeable?”

Crocodile fixed her with a bemused expression. “I will have my lawyer draw us up a contract.”

Nami nodded. “I’ll take the job,” she said.

“Excellent,” Sir Crocodile said with another sinister grin. “I look forward to working with you, Ms. Mikan.”

He held out his hand for her to shake, and after one final brief moment of consideration, she accepted.

“My men will see you home,” Sir Crocodile said.

As if on cue, the wall opened again, and the two men from before entered once more.

“Be nice this time,” Crocodile said, shooting his men a warning look. “It’s unacceptable for my guests to arrive with bruises.”

Nami gave the men a smug grin as she got up and allowed them to escort her back out. She paused just before she left Sir Crocodile’s office.

“Oh, one more thing,” she said, turning back to the man behind the desk. “About Mr. Michaels’ estate…”

Crocodile laughed. “The matter has been settled; expect the documents within the next few days. The estate is still yours.”

Nami nodded, satisfied with that response, and obediently followed the men through the wall, which slid closed behind them with a final click.


End file.
